Listening to The Dead
by Faerie in Combat Boots
Summary: Emily's view of her life, her death, afterlife and the whole 'Victor Incident'. Inspired by the book The Lovely Bones. Rated T just in case. Will be editing chapters in the future, to fix mistakes.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer- I won nothing from Tim Burton's movie. This is my take on things. No suing, because I'm broke. Prologue 

When I was six years old, my mother died of tuberculosis, on a chilly march morning, after weeks of suffering.

As they lowered her into the cold ground, I held my father's hand tightly. I was a tiny little girl with wide eyes and a slender neck, described by relatives as 'swan-like'.

As dirt fell on her coffin, I turned to my father and asked:  
"Papa? Won't Mummy be lonely and scared in her box alone?"

He squeezed my hand and said to me: "Don't worry Emily dear, she's happy where she is. When anyone dies they are at peace,"

I didn't realize then, but my father was lying to me about death. For as I learned the hard way. Death isn't always peaceful.


	2. A different kind of embrace

Disclaimer remains. Oh and this is only how I think things went down.

My name was Emily and though it's very hard to admit at times, I am dead. Undeniably dead. In the town you will hear tales of my ill-fated wedding to Victor Van Dort, but you only hear about how _horrifying _it was for the dead to rise and all that rubbish. But no one has ever really heard the story, at least not as told by the dead.

But the dead are speaking. Just listen.

First and foremost I was murdered. Murdered. I didn't die of a fever or of a tragic accident prior to my wedding day. I didn't commit suicide to escape marriage to a foul bridegroom. I was **murdered**.

I was murdered on the night I was to marry before I could even say my vows. I was murdered by the man I love most. My fiancée.

The night I died, I had been waiting. Barkis had promised to under a tree in the woods. We were to elope against my father's wishes. I stole some gold and jewels (as we'd need them for our life together) and slipped on my mother's wedding gown and went to meet my love.

That was three hours ago. I was getting cold and scared. Every sound I heard made me jump. Where was he? What if he was hurt? ( At the time I couldn't grasp that the man I loved could actually _hurt_ me)

But then, I did hear some movement. I knew, I just knew, it was him. My heart thudded and soon dreams of our wedding, of our home of all the babies we would have filled my head. What would we name our first born? Would we have a dog? So many thoughts and fantasies filled my head and didn't realize I was to die. I would be Mrs. Barkis Bittern. Emily Bittern.

"Barkis, my love is that you?" I asked hopefully.

"None other my sweet Emily" Came the reply.

He approached and took my hand. Something suddenly didn't seem right.

"Did you bring the gold and the jewels I said we'd need?" He said, his voice low and strange.

"Of course darling" I said showing them to him. He smiled, an oily strange smile.

"Very well then," He said reaching out for me.

I went to embrace him, but he gave me a different embrace instead. He wrapped his hands around my slender "swan" neck and gripped. It was so sudden, I didn't have time to scream. I thrashed my legs, and tried to wrench his hands from my neck as he throttled me. I was so alive, my eyes darting wildly hoping just hoping someone would save me, thoughts reeling in my head, mentally begging for mercy as I couldn't speak.

His face was leering into my, his smile malicious and cruel. I knew then, he didn't love me. He never did. He just wanted my money.

And as I came to this realization, all went black.


	3. The Sick Musings of Barkis Bittern

Barkis' POV

Barkis Bittern stood over his now dead fiancée. Pretty little thing she was, even if he did not love her. He stood, admiring his handiwork. He had done this before. This was his sixth murder. It was a habit of his, courting rich young women, then murdering them on the wedding night and making off with the dowry. When the funds ran dry, he found another woman.

He stared, at the cooling, stiffening body musing on what he'd just done. He had no remorse, just sardonic cruel pity on her.

'Poor rich little brat, getting caught in my web'

Barkis thought about his first murder. It was in England, the daughter of a Duke. Her name was Cornelia Laffingham, a girl with golden curls and peachy skin. The perfect English maid. This one he actually loved, though she was a spoiled petty thing. They married in a lavish ceremony and took up in the family's country manor. After a few weeks of marriage he had begun to become irritated with her and her hyena like laugh and her constant _wanting_. He stabbed her to death in the garden after a heated argument with some pruning shears. The gardener was blamed and hung for murder while Barkis remained safe in the guise of the bereft widower, telling all he suspected the gardener hated his darling Cornelia.

After that, he went to France, once again a bachelor. He met a young woman named Genevieve whose father naturally owned a vineyard. At the wedding feast, he slipped her wine with some poison. While preparing herself in her boudoir for the marriage bed, she died. That way he could go upstairs and find his bride's body on the floor. Everyone would assume and illness and by the time the autopsy would find poison, he would be gone.

Those were the first two. The four others had died in varying ways, drowning, shooting, throat slitting and smashing in their skull. His didn't do this because he enjoyed bloodshed, he simply wanted their money. Sure the bloodshed was amusing to him, but he wanted the money more.

What started him on this nuptial massacre? Did he hate women? Yes, as a matter of fact he did. He was raised by his wealthy aunt, a woman who never really lavished him with affection as his parents were dead. She beat him whenever she could and starved him for days at a time. While she spoiled herself and others she made him work as a servant. One day when he was nineteen, he poisoned her, and being the only sole survivor in his family, inherited everything.

But Barkis was a fool, he squandered the money and only having his title to his name married into Cornelia's wealthy family. After murdering her in a heat of passion and getting her dowry, and whatever other money there was he realized he could keep himself in money by marrying and murdering young woman and taking their dowries.

This one hadn't gone as planned. Emily's father had said: "No" and Barkis was at a loss of what to do next. But it was clever little Emily who had suggested they elope while Barkis had collaborated on that and told her to bring some money for them to start their new life.

Barkis laughed aloud. The bitch had dug her own grave, by suggesting elopement. If she hadn't suggested it, he would've given up and gone to look for another girl. Why hadn't he thought of that? He was lucky it had turned out like this, he still got the money and he still got to murder.

Barkis stopped musing then, realizing he had to get to work. Dawn would come in another four hours and he had to be gone before anyone would realize either he or Emily was missing. They would just assume they'd gone and eloped. They would be furious and disown Emily, so if Emily didn't return, then they wouldn't care either way.

Barkis went to a tree where he had hidden a shovel a few days before. He was a clever son of a bitch. He'd have to work quickly. He dug a shallow grave, and unceremoniously threw her body in. The only kindness he did for Emily's corpse was close her eyes, which had been open in shock. He didn't do it for her though. Her wide luminous eyes were creeping him out, staring with blame. Her buried her quickly, not realizing that in a strange freak coincidence her arm had been sticking outward and now rose from the ground. However, no one would notice, her town was miles away from her grave. Yes, there was another town nearby, however, they were a superstitious lot and wouldn't dare venture into the forest and discover that arm rising out of the ground like a macabre flower.

Barkis Bittern fled into the night then, clutching his well-earned treasures. He would be forgotten in Emily's town, Emily would be forgotten as well. 'Nobody wants to remember a little trollop who disobeyed her father,' thought Barkis as darkness enveloped him and he would not be seen. But what about Emily? Where was she now in spirit?

I decided that Emily and Victor's towns would be a forest apart so Victor would not have heard of Emily before. Anyone know how long Emily has been dead exactly? Judging by her state of decay, I can't say more than a couple of years.


	4. New Arrival?

Blah blah Disclaimer No ownership, I suck. End. Oh and tell me if I get any character names wrong.

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I remember little of what happened after Barkis murdered me. I remember falling into blackness, flailing my long limbs, screaming to no one. I was scared. I was so scared. Anyone would be. I had just died. The man I loved had just wrapped his hands around my neck and choked the air out of me. Now, I was falling into nothing, losing everything.

THUD! I landed on cold hard ground, still screaming, giving great keening wails, I don't know what had possessed me, in life, I never shrieked so. People crowded all around. They were all talking saying "new arrival". Arrival? Where had I arrived? I Looked up from my now dirty dress and saw all around me- corpses. Corpses, in various states of decay, some still with flesh, other all bone. This added to my terror, and I shrieked louder and though I was dead, felt tears rush down my face.

"HELP ME!" I shrieked, reaching my arms out.

They were talking all at once, and I continued to scream and scream. They were at a loss for what to do. I wanted to shout:

"Ask me! Ask me what's happened! I've been murdered!"

I so wanted to say something, desperately. But I couldn't, I just couldn't. My hysteria was keeping me from speaking. If I had cried this much in life, I would've begun to hiccup, but I could not. I was dead. The thought of being dead dawned on me again as I remembered hiccuping and I keened louder. People were putting their arms around me, dead strangers were holding me and finally, someone asked: "What's happened to you young woman?"

I looked up and saw that an old bent skeleton had entered the room. He had a long old beard and a pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of his, well he didn't really have a nose anymore being a skeleton. He bent, down creakily and looked me right in the face and asked again:

"What has happened to you girl?"  
"I-I-I- w-w-w-w-a-a-s-s…" I didn't even finished I started sobbing again.

The Old Skeleton turned and said to someone: "Fetch the poor girl some whiskey, Emil"

I looked up saw Emil, just a head, supported by cockroaches. Oh god. I'm not quite sure how the whiskey was brought to me, for I was still wailing, while a plump decaying woman pet my dark hair from under my veil. The whiskey was put to my lips and I was commanded gently to take a sip. I did and woah! It burnt, though not was badly as it would've had I been alive! I felt calmer, and the shock of the whiskey stopped my tears.

"Now," the old skeleton began.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"I-I-I-I w-was murdered." I said softly. There was a gasp and murmurs all around me.

"We've never had a murder before," Someone whispered.

"I know! And Emil doesn't count was murder, he was executed during The Terror in France!" Someone else said.

"I would count that as murder," I heard Emil sniff.

"QUIET!" the old skeleton, shouted. Everyone shut up.

"Who did it?" he asked taking my hand in his bony one.

"My fiancée," I whispered.

"He-he strangled me."

More murmuring. I was still crouched on the floor, the old skeleton and the plump woman still holding onto me.

"Come on Mrs. Plum, help me get her up" the old skeleton said.

"What's your name Miss?"

"Emily," I said clutching my flowers to me.

"Come Emily, let's get you adjusted" they said.


	5. Becoming The Corpse Bride

Okay I still don't own anything. I'm aware I got the name of the head waiter wrong. His name is Paul. Let's just pretend I called him that all along. Oh and the only reason I called Elder Gutkneckt "The Old Skeleton" was because Emily doesn't know his name yet.

* * *

Mrs. Plum led me to a small room behind the Ball and Socket. It was dim and only had a coffin.

"Here you are love, the last person who stayed here was a young woman who died in childbirth and her baby who died soon afterwards." Mrs. Plum said.

"Where are they now? I mean this is where the dead go for eternity?" I asked. Oh I had so many questions! I continued to ask her about this place. Why was I here? What about heaven? What about hell? Does this mean there is no god?

Eventually Mrs. Plum hushed me and said:

"You need to rest, you can ask Elder Gutknecht tomorrow"

She bid me good rest and I lay down on my coffin alone. In the background, the sounds of the pub kept me awake, though they were muffled. I was alone. I was used to that though. I had always been alone as a child. I never made any friends, I only had my father and my Aunt Charlotte. I called her Auntie Lottie as I remember. It was she who taught me to take a net and catch butterflies in the springtime, she who once took me to the sea. She cared for me whenever my busy father worked.

As I thought of my aunt, tears rolled down my cheeks again. I would never see any of my family again. Why didn't I listen to my father? I was so foolish! Worst of all I never got to marry. Since I was a little girl, I had wanted to be a bride. Now I was dead. My little whimpers turned to great sobs that were drowned out by the sounds of the pub.

The next morning I went to Mrs. Plum, who was stirring a great disgusting vat of something.

"Where would I find Elder Gutknecht?" I asked.

"In his study of course!" She laughed, I'll have Bonejangles show you the way"

Bonejangles was a skeleton who played music at the pub, He had a fast way of talking and I found I could get along with him.

"So you're The Land of the Dead's Corpse Bride" He said upon our introduction.

"Corpse Bride?" I said, raising an arched eyebrow.

"That's what everyone's been calling you," He said with a shrug. I noticed he slouched when he walked. I'm sure if he had pockets he would've hand his hands in them. But no, being a skeleton he had no need for clothes. He had a bowler hat.

"So you were murdered?" He asked, casually was if it were nothing.

"I'd rather not talk about it." I said coldly.

"Ah, I understand. After I died, I didn't want to talk about to anyone. The way I died was rather painful. Physically and emotionally. I was a musician, and I was madly in love with this girl. I wrote songs for her and she flirted with me. But she went off and married a wealthier man. In my despair I hung myself" Bonejangles told me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I whispered.

Bonejangles smiled a bony wistful smile.

"So am I," He said softly.

We made to Elder Gutknecht's study. It was dusty and full of old books. Elder was sifting thorough a pile of ancient parchment.

"Elder Gutknecht?" I queried.

"Ah Miss Emily" He said putting on spectacles.

"I was wonder when you'd come to me. What are your questions?"

I proceeded to ask him every question I had last night. He listened intently, every so often nodding and saying: "Ah"

He told me:

"The land of the dead is where the dead go obviously. There is a heaven and a hell oh yes, but this is a go between."

"Like Purgatory?" I asked, remembering Bible School as a young girl.

"Almost but not quite. Everyone, no matter how they died comes here. Sometimes they need to work out some problems before they move on to a better place and they stay here to think it over. Sometimes they are trapped because of their manner of death, there is a weight on their shoulders which keeps them from truly moving on. When they are set free of this burden or work out their problems they move on to their version of paradise. Some of us consider this place paradise and choose to stay. I myself was an alchemist in life and died in my sleep, and having no baggage could move on. But I decided to stay here and use my wisdom to help others. Bonejangles was set free of his burden long ago, but he decided to stay, loving the music. The young woman who lived in your room before you, died in childbirth, her infant died only a few days after. She and the baby were here for some time before she was able to move on. See she felt terrible about dying so young and her child dying too. Her child could have moved on rather quickly but she kept the child here, in her loneliness and need to be maternal. But she soon accepted the fact that she and her infant were dead and moved on.

Now what do you think is keeping you here?"

I sat and thought about that. I was murdered. By the man I love. I never got to marry. If I married, maybe I could move on.

"I was killed by the man I was to wed," I said.

"Tell me, is it possible to marry here in The Land of the Dead"

"You can do anything you did in life here except bear children and breathe" Elder said.

"Then I will wait everyday until I find then man I love to set me free," I swore.

"I will wait at my grave and wait for my true love, my groom to be."

From then on, I truly became The Corpse Bride.

* * *

**Quick preview of future chapters: Emily get her piano, starts decorating and makes some new strange friends. **


	6. Of Maggots, Decay and Music

Disclaimer and all that crap remains. And some of the stuff I said would happen in this chapter might not happen because I just write randomly.

* * *

I slowly began to adjust to my new life. Oh, silly me, calling it that. It's more of an afterlife really. Nonetheless, I began to become used to being dead.

Though, no one truly knew my name. Nobody did! No asked, and I didn't bother to tell anyone, always being somewhat shy. I went by the moniker: "Corpse Bride". Bonejangles nickname for me had spread and everyone called me that. Some like Bonejangles and his bandcalled me "Corpsey" when they were in a joking mood. But of course I never liked that nickname.

I adapted a day job. I waited. I would lie under the treewhere I was killed for hours, waiting for my true love. It was dreadfully depressing and lonely. So terribly lonely.

One day I lay, waiting, my flowers laying on my chest. They had dried out. I too was looking too well. My skin, which at my death, had turneda coldblue was beginning to change. And not for the better.Parts of my cheek had begun to pucker a bit looking like pits on my faceand you could see every joint in my fingers becuase the skin had tightened on them.Everyone had told me it was natural to decay, everyone did and don't be surprised when something falls off. Falls off! I shuddered as I lay at the thought of losing limbs and things. Then I heard it.

"Emily…Emily…"

Someone was talking to me! My true love! Oh he'd arrived at last!

"Oh!" I whispered, elated and a little nervous.

"Oh who are you?"

"I am your angel of music," The voice said, suppressing a giggle.

"Come to me angel of music…"

Wait a tick, the voice was inside of my head! Had I gone mad?  
"Who are you?" I said more sternly.

"And what are you doing inside my head?"

"I'm a maggot!" The Voice said.

"And what do you think I'm doing in your head?"

I gave a shocked scream of disgust and said the words that would return me to my room near the pub.

Back in my room I shook my head until a little green creature fell from my ear and onto my hand.

"Ugh! A maggot" I said angrily.

"Why do you want to be in MY brain. Why must maggots be in my brain in the first place?"

"Well it's only natural," The Maggot said, rolling his eyes.

"Everyone decays. I mean, look in the mirror."

I went to my mirror, which had been in the room when I arrived. I looked and saw that… oh dear god. My nose was rotting off. My perky little nose was rotting, as was my cheek. Then just as I noticed my nose's state of decay, it dropped off and landed on the dressing table!

I screamed in shock and backed away from the table. My nose! Oh my nose!

"My nose has fallen off! Now I'll be too ugly for my true love to come to me!" I sobbed.

I flung myself onto my coffin in tears. I cried for several minutes, feeling not only awful becuase of my nose, but terrible becuase I was being so vain.

Then I heard another voice. Female.

"Oh darling, you're still beautiful, nose or not,"

I looked up and saw a black widow spider and this time I was not afraid. I liked spiders, they had always made such pretty webs.

"Whether or not you have a nose won't matter to your true love because he'll always be your true love" She said.

"Really?" I sniffed, drying my eyes on my viel.

"Of course," The maggot said.

"Everyone knows that"

I had made two more friends down in The Land of the Dead.

Boredom over came me. My day was the same. I waited under the tree, went to the pub for awhile sometimes. I wandered the Second Hand Shop. Whixh, funnily sold hands from amputations during wars.And then I rekindled the passion I had in life. Music. It was after the pub had closed and everyone had retired to their coffins and catacombs. I was sitting up pondering some ways to brighten up my room. I had already hung some blue drapes and put candles ( which I enjoyed playing with, awed at the fact that their flames didn't hurt me at all!) all around the room. Something stirred deep inside me suddenly, and I felt drawn to enter the main room of the pub. There, I found the piano, all alone calling to me. I walked over to that piano and sat down and started to play around. Oh to play music again! I began to play Mozart, my thin fingers dancing on the keys my heart joyous again. I had almost forgotten I was dead. Until my eye fell out. My eye! It had never done that of course and I was a little shocked, but so happy was I to have music I again I merely laughed and popped it back in and continued to play long into the night.


	7. Memories of a Dead Girl Pt One

You get it by now, I own nothing at all. Yeah. I assume the story took place in 1889, and Victor, Emily and Victoria were all about the same age. It's just, Emily died before them is all. When she was sixteen. Okay? If that's not right or anything, it don't matter because this is FANFIC.

* * *

I spent a long time in my grave under the tree. And that gave me a lot of time to reminisce on my life. I began to remember things, very distant things, starting from the cradle…

Memory- I had been born on May 19th, 1870. The midwife said it had been an oddly easy labor for my mother's first child. She also said the moment I came into the world, and gave that first outraged wail of life, a butterfly landed on the windowpane outside. The midwife thought it would give me good fortune in life. It didn't, but from then on, my name became associated with butterflies.

_A small infant girl lies in her lace draped bassinet. She has small tufts of black hair and luminous blue-gray eyes. Her mother looms above her, a small woman with eyes just like the infants, but soft auburn hair. She's in her blue silk dressing gown and cooing over her perfect new daughter. _

"_You have no idea how long I waited to have you little Emily. Years in fact. I never thought I'd be able to have you." She whispered to the little girl._

"_Almost like in a fairy-tale"_

_The last part she whispered to herself. _

It was a fact that my mother and father were like the King and Queen in a fairy-tale. My father was somewhat older than my mother, and seemed very serious, whereas my mother had been vivacious and bright in all her ways. They married on April 14th 1859. For years it seemed they would be childless. My mother suffered miscarriages and at least two stillbirths, both of them girls. In 1865 she gave birth to a son, a little boy she named Henry. Three months after he was born he died. Then in August of 1869, she discovered she was pregnant, with me. Nine months later I was born, her princess, her fairy-tale. The Village Priest would later say she had done magic in order to have me, that she even bargained with a witch or the devil. But he never liked my mother or me for that matter.

_Little Emily continues to stare up at her mother. Her mother is the only person she truly knows of in this strange world. It's her mother who hung that pretty mobile of blue and white butterflies above her bassinet. She looks past her mother to focus her eyes on that mobile. It fascinates her ceaselessly, this beautiful contraption. _

"_My little fairy-tale" her mother whispers before leaving._

That mobile hung in my rooms for years and years. It was one of my most favorite thing. Eventually the paper butterfly wings began to fade, and when I tried touching then they'd tear, as real butterfly wings do. When I was twelve it disappeared and I never saw it again.

_Little Emily is alone in her nursery now, still lying in her frothy bassinet. She stares at the mobile. From downstairs, she can hear her mother playing the piano. It's that song, that pretty wistful one. She continues to watch the butterflies, and slowly it seems like the butterflies are coming off the wires, and floating around the room, doing little dances for her. The baby gurgles in pleasure. _

For the earliest part of my childhood I was happy. I got all the love and adoration a child could get. Being the only child in my family, I got all the love, not a rival in sight. I was golden in everyone's eyes. Except for one person.

_Five-year old Emily basks in the sunshine. It's rarely sunny in her village. Rarely sunny anywhere. Her black ringlets fall around her shoulders, contrasting with her white lacy dress. Her skin is milky pale. It's early spring and the butterflies are out. Oh, butterflies. She loves them! One floats past her, blue and black, like a beautiful bruise and she goes to chase after it. Her nanny calls after her, but she chooses not to listen, the butterfly is the only thing that matters now._

Shortly before my fourth birthday, my mother's immune system began weaken. She was constantly ill and could no longer care for me as she once could. So she hired a nanny, a rough cockney woman from the city, looking for work in the countryside, a woman who loved hard liquor and hated any flights of fancy. Which means, she wasn't too fond of me.

_The Nanny, who'd up until now been idly thinking about how soon she could escape to the tavern for a whiskey and perhaps a bit of a tumble in the hay, notices her bratty charge is missing. _

"_Son of a bitch" she mutters harshly. _

"_EMILY!" She shouts._

_The little wench is ignoring her again. _

_Emily totters after the butterfly, giggling, lost in her own world, she is nearing the arboretum, where all those rows of trees are. The housecat flits by chasing after some invisible prey. No one can see her from the house, chasing **her** butterfly. She sings a song of her own composing, a butterfly song, a hunting song, a spring song, a girl song._

_She's about to get it, the elusive butterfly. But then…_

"_YOU WRETCHED LITTLE BRAT!"_

_Her nanny's found her. She know what's going to happen now._

"_Don't you bloody, run off on me, you little shit!" The Woman spits grabbing the girl's arm and jerking her roughly._

_Then it comes. She slaps Emily hard across the face, a loud stinging blow._

_The girl begins to sob, humiliated and afraid, She's only five, what could she have done? 'My fault, my fault' she thinks in panic. _

_The rage of being outsmarted by a child is still in the nanny. She's sour with drink, from last night. She slaps the child again, angry at the world, not just Emily._

_The child wails again, angering her more, but somewhat, making her happy. The woman is sadistic almost._

'_My fault, my fault' Emily thinks. She wishes it could rain stones, big ones, crush that evil lady. _

It wasn't the first time she'd slapped me about. She was an alcoholic as I said, and angry at the world for her station in life. I also suspect she, couldn't have been fully stable either. It had been going on since she'd been hired. First time she hit me, I was shocked as hell. I never became used to it, never accepted it. But what could I have done? I could not fight back, I was too small. But I did have a savior.

_The woman slaps Emily a third time. The girl breaks loose, and runs away, tears streaming down her face like rivers. Her boots are scuffed with dirt, and a stocking is torn from struggling. On her face is a screaming red mark, a bright scarlet tattoo. The woman chases after her, swearing._

'_All this for one measly butterfly,' Emily thinks._

'_I'm so stupid!'_

_She runs out of the arboretum, and finds the gardener tending to the Tudor rose bush. She has to tell someone, even the gardener. He's safe, he's good. He lets her help him sometimes, teaches her to pick pretty bouquets to give her sick mother._

"_Sam! Sam!" She cries to him._

_The gardener, Sam, looks up. He see little mistress, bowling towards him, a mess, face red. Usually when she come to him like this she's found something wonderful, like a butterfly cocoon or a strange plant. But this time, she's crying, and she hasn't scraped her knee, like she does when she runs up crying._

_Following her, is her nanny, looking like the devil himself. Emily holds her arms out, needy, scared. He picks her up, like he would any of his own thirteen children._

"_She's hitting me!" she wails. He sees the bruise on her face. He's seen these bruises before. The nanny always dismissed them saying the girl fell whilst playing. Now Sam knows. _

"_Give me the child" The Nanny pants, holding out her arms._

"_She's escaped me."_

"_And with good reason!" Sam yells._

"_I'm going to tell The Master 'bout this! His wife too!"_

_The nanny blanches. It's allover for her now._

Sam saved me that day. He marched up to my father, me still on his hip and told my father everything. Now, Sam was an honest man, so he was believed and that horrible woman was fired. Later Sam's auntie was hired as my nanny. And she did a good job of it too.

I owed that man so much, and sometimes I wish, I'd told him about my elopement (for he kept my secrets from childhood), so he could have waited with me for Barkis and possibly saved me from death.


	8. Changes of All Sorts

-I own nothing still. But I do own the DVD at last and noticed some mistakes I made in writing this. Emily lives in her own little alley not a special little room. Oops. This chapter fixes it.

* * *

I had been staying in that little room for a month. I hated the blue drapes now, they were boring. I hated the candles, playing with them no longer entertained me. The vanity only showed my progress in decay, as flesh started to drop off my limbs, and I hated the sight of my face nose less. The noise from the pub kept me up and Someone was always barging in at an inopportune times to ramble. One night, Bonejangles stumbled in, somewhat inebriated yelling: "Guess how many bones I just saw"

It was definitely time to go somewhere else.

"Mrs. Plum," I asked her one day, as I helped her peel wrinkled potatoes for a stew.

"How long do I have to stay in that little room?"

"For as long as you need to. Why?" she replied, resting the potato peeler on her expansive bosom.

"I'm tired of it. I need to change my settings I think. Where else could I stay here?" I said, staring at the peelings in my lap.

"Well, you could always look around and find a place to put your coffin. Anywhere would do, anywhere quiet and peaceful." She said.

"Why my coffin is in the pantry. Here you can kip anywhere"

"How did you die?" I asked her, suddenly out of curiosity.

She gave a laugh and picked up her peeler again.

" I died of old age. I stay here because I like caring for people. Had ten kids you know and twice as many grandchildren. One day my heart gave out, died at my stove. And no it wasn't a tragic death. Not everyone here had a tragic life and died a terrible death. I had lived long and it was my time to go." She said waving the peeler in my face.

I sat still. I had been inquiring after people, about their deaths. Only a handful of them died tragically. One of them had been an old man, with a grandson and a good life. He didn't say much about it, only that it he had been murdered and mugged whilst traveling and his body thrown in the woods. He had twigs in his clothing and had come two weeks after I had, and now replaced the barber who had moved on. He entertainingly kept his scissors in his head when he worked.

I came out of my reverie and stood up, smoothing peelings off my wedding finery. The dress and viel had begun to fall apart, small holes were forming. My dress had already ripped while Barkis was murdering me, in the bodice, when he grabbed me, while I struggled. Now you could see pale blue flesh stark against lace and silk.

I stepped out of the Ball and Socket, still not accustomed to our lack of sunlight. And then I began to search. I searched old Catacombs, finding them either occupied or too dusty to inhabit (And I wouldn't dust it out myself, I was not one for housework). I searched the cemetery, but that was occupied, every grave and crypt had an occupant. I searched everywhere but nowhere seemed to workout for me.

While searching I found a small mound of dirt at the cemetary's edge, and over it was a cross that said: "Scraps"

Scraps? What did that mean? Scraps. I sat down beside the mound of dirt, staring at it, wondering. As I wondered, the mound began to tremble and rumble. Suddenly, with a leap and a bark, a dog corpse rose from it and landed right in front of me. It still had some scraps of flesh and fur hanging from it's bones, but in general I could tell it must have been adorable in life. Around it's neck was a scarlet collar with a badge proclaiming his name: Scraps.

"Oh! You're Scraps! My, what a cutie you are," I cooed as he leapt up into my lap (getting dirt everywhere) and nuzzled my face.

"We could be companions, you and me. Would you like that?" I asked. He gave a yip of agreement. I'd always wanted a dog, but never truly had one. My father thought it improper for young ladies to have dogs, as they require much running about and can get so dirty. Girls ought to have less complicated pets. Therefore, he gave me an array of songbirds to sit and sing. I liked them but overall I preferred dogs, and the housecat, who I secretly let sleep on my bed, rather than in her little assigned basket.

I stood up, continued my search, and beckoned Scraps to follow.

"Come along!" I called to the skeletal dog.

"I'm looking for a new home!"

As I searched the town with Scraps, I was an even odder sight then before. Now a Corpse Dog, as well as a maggot that lived in her brain and spider that lived in her room followed the Corpse Bride. But we marched on, until I found the best place. It was not too far from the Ball and Socket, my main haunt. Heh, my main haunt. I realize I've made a terrible joke there, being dead and all. I had found an alley, a very simple alley, also near Elder Gutknecht's lair. It was quiet and it seemed no one went there. There was a red door and step obviously leading to somewhere within the building next to the alley. But I had no further mind to inquire. I'd have to ask Mrs. Plum when I moved my coffin and collected my things. There was a crate that could work as a little table and a place for Black Widow to build a web. It was perfect!

I rushed back to Mrs. Plum and told her about my alley and she agreed it was an excellent place to move, being so near Elder Gutknecht's and far from the noise of the Lounge.

"What about that red door? Where does that lead?" I asked.

"Oh! That door! It's useless," Mrs. Plum said.

"See the building is just a spare building, from times when we'd have lots of dead coming in. See during times of plague or war, many people would die, see? And with so many dead people unwilling to move on (especially those plague victims) there wasn't enough room for everyone. So all those extra dead would stay there. It's like how some countries make special buildings for their immigrants to live in. You know, flats."

"Well if I move into the alley will there be a problem?" I asked.

"Nah, Elder says we won't have a plague or a war for some time, at least not until the early twentieth century is what he says. Smart as a whip that man." She said cheerily.

"Now let me call Bonejangles and his boys to help you move in"

Several hours later (skeletons make it so hard to move in) my alley was all set up, my old coffin with the red lining, a candle, and some other varying things. It was simple, unlike the fussy lacy rooms of my childhood. The boys brought some spirits to break in my home and I for once partook, and we created an alley celebration that could rival the Lounge itself, with Bonejangles singing and dancing.

"Come on Corpsey, join in on the fun!" he laughed, grabbing my wrist. I danced with him for some time, everyone cheering us on. The Bone Boys hooted and catcalled as Bonejangles and I danced. I had never danced so much until Bonejangles and I heard a horrific crack and we both tumbled over.

"Was it your leg?" I asked concerned, for during the moving he dropped my coffin and snapped on of his leg bones. Now I worried his other leg had given too.

"No," he said, his voice tinged with unease.

"It was your leg"

I looked down, and saw my right leg, which had been rotting lately specifically around the knee, had snapped off at the knee joint. I stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed in embarrassment at my poor rotting leg.

"Oh dear god! I'm a cripple!" I cried, with a hiccup. I wish they hadn't given me so much whiskey to celebrate.

"Now no one will want to marry me!"

Tears started to roll like fat drunken raindrops down my blue cheeks. The boys looked around at each other, obviously uncomfortable at the prospect of a crying woman.

"Calm down Sweet Cheeks," Bonejangles soothed.

"It's easily fixed, look,"

He took my leg in his hand and affixed it back onto my leg with a definite pop. And I was whole once again.

"See? Easy peasy," he said smoothly.

"Thank you" I sniffed, getting up off my stomach and moving to my coffin.

"Now you better get some rest," He said.

"Come on boys"

After they left, I lay in my coffin, Scraps and my feet and thought:

"I should be used to losing body parts by now. I should be used to being dead. And alone, and husbandless. I should be used to sadness, tears, and all this things. But I'm not. I never will be."

Then tears rolled down my cheeks and I silently cried my self into piteous sleep. 'Tears to shed' I thought solemnly.


	9. Memories of a Dead Girl Pt 2

**ZOmg no updates for over a year and look at this! Wow maybe I'll finish this thing after all!**

* * *

When I was a child, I had a nanny who beat me, as I told you before. After she was sacked, our gardener's aunt took over. Her name was Bessie and from the moment I saw her, a rotund plump woman with gray hair, I loved her. She was a wise loving woman who dandled me on her knee and called me her Ducky. She also showed me how beautiful the moon was.

_ Six-year-old Emily is fast asleep. She is dreaming about flying up towards the clouds high above the ground. People below see her and greet her joyously. Someone is saying her name. _

"_Emily, Emily my duckling, wake up!" _

_ She opens her eyes and sees her new nanny Bessie over her. The round heart shaped face is glowing with wonder and the soft brown eyes are twinkling._

"_Get out of bed, there's something I must show you!" she whispers._

"_But it's nighttime, Bessie," she replies._

"_I'm not allowed outside at night!"_

"_I know but you must see this wonderful thing!" Bessie says as the girl steps into her blue silk slippers._

_ They sneak down the stairs, Emily gripping Bessie's hand tightly. They go through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Then they go out the back door, Emily's heart beating with excitement all the while._

_They step out into the backyard, the grass dampening Emily's thin slippers. _

_"Look up," Bessie whispers._

_ Emily turns her face up to the sky and sees the moon, it is full and round, hanging low in the sky. The luminous orb reminds her of a pearl and she is completely entranced by it._

"_It's beautiful," she whispers._

"_Isn't it, little duckling?" Bessie replies gently._

"_When I was a little girl my mother would take me outside on summer nights like these to show me the full moon. She would tell me stories about the moon that she had heard from her granny, stories about broken-hearted princesses who sacrificed their lives to the moon, to save those they love or about princesses who lived on the moon itself throwing grand parties. When I was young I liked hearing about the happier princess, but as I grew older I began to enjoy the tragic tale of the other princess."_

"_If someone asked me to, I would give my life to the moon, if it would cure my mother," Emily whispers._

_The nanny hears the little girl's declaration and tears come to her eyes._

After that night, on every full moon, I would sneak outside and gaze at the moon. I did this every year leading up to my death. Speaking of death... I come to a very difficult chapter of my life, the year my mother died.

As I said, my mother was dying of tuberculosis. Shortly after I turned seven, her sister, my dear Aunt Charlotte came to care for her and the rest of us. She was jolly and tried to veil the fact that my mother was going to die, but I knew something was wrong.

_ Emily sits outside the parlor eavesdropping on her father and the Doctor. They speak in intense hushed whispers and she has to strain to hear their words._

"_Only a few more days, Sir. Just try to make her comfortable, call for a priest." The doctor says._

"_Is there anything we can give her for the pain? Some Tincture of Opium? Morphine?" Her father asks, distressed._

"_I don't normally carry them with me, so I'll have my assistant deliver them to you,"_

_ Emily chews a lock of her hair in anxiety. She's not supposed to do it, but she worried, so worried. Something awful is happening and she's not sure she can help._

_Suddenly, someone grabs her. It's only her Aunt Charlotte._

"_Come away from here darling, you don't want your father to catch you eavesdropping!" she says picking the little girl up and carrying her to her playroom._

A few days later, my mother died. Hours before she passed, my father brought me up to her room to talk with her one last time.

_Emily peers into her mother's bedroom. In there is a woman she does not recognize. _

"_Mummy?" she asks softly. The emaciated woman in the bed turns her head slowly._

"_My little Emily," she whispers._

"_Mummy, what is the matter?" Emily asks as her mother takes her hand._

"_I'm not going to lie to you little one, I am going to die," Her mother says, weakly stroking her daughter's hand._

"_What does that mean?" Emily asked._

"_It means you go to sleep, but you never wake up. Then they put you in a box below ground so no one can bother you while you sleep," Her mother explains gently. It is the simplest way to explain it. She cannot use a scientific explanation for such a small innocent child._

_ Emily nods solemnly, she is worried for her mother but figures a very long nap may be the best thing if she is so sick._

"_Now, before I die my precious little Emily, I want you to know how much I love you. I love you very much and I am so proud you are my daughter." She says hoarsely. A tear drips down her cheek._

"_I love you too Mummy," Emily whispers in return. Then in an oddly grown-up moment she whispers:_

"_I am very glad you are my mother, you are the very best mummy." _

_ Her mother smiles weakly as her only child clambers onto the bed and gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Aunt Charlotte plucks Emily off the bed and ushers her out the room, tuberculosis is contagious and it would be a tragedy if the girl caught it. _

"_Come along Emily, your Mummy needs to get some rest."_

_As they leave Emily can hear her my whisper for the last time:_

"_My little fairytale"_

An hour later my mother died. I was with my piano instructor. I was starting a new piece, I can not recall what it was, when my father entered the room.

_ Emily's father sees his seven-year-old daughter at the piano. The instructor, a pale stiff man with long fingers stands by. _

_ His daughter, his only child. All that's left of his now deceased wife. In a blur he rushes to her and picks her up off the bench. He holds little Emily tight, and weeps into her dark curly hair, while she looks about in confusion._

"_Your mother is gone." He chokes. _

"_Where has she gone, Papa?" she asks innocently._

_ He starts, realizing that he has not explained death. What to say. He is rescued by his sister-in-law who has just entered the room._

"_She has gone to take her nap, little Emily," she says remembering what her now dead sister had said just an hour ago._

_ Emily nods solemnly. Then she sees her father is crying. She has never seen him cry. Not even when they visit her dead sister and brother at the cemetery, but of course she doesn't know that they are permanently dead. She just thinks they are taking deep long naps._

"_Oh Papa," she murmurs patting his cheeks._

"_Don't be sad, Mummy is alright, she's only sleeping right?"_

"_Right," He lies, making a grimace of a forced smile._

"_Charlotte, take her to her room,"_

A few days later, I attended my mother's funeral. I was confused and afraid. Wouldn't mummy be lonely in that box? What if she does what wake up? I did not know what death really was.

After my death, I found out my mother had stayed in The Land of the Dead for a period of time. She stayed until she knew I had a steady female figure in the household, to teach me how to be a lady. Bessie, of course was good for basic child rearing and lessons, but I needed someone to teach me how to be a lady of society. When my Aunt Charlotte moved in within us two weeks after the funeral, my mother was able to move on.


	10. Interlude to Victor

Disclaimer- I won nothing from Tim Burton's movie

**Here is a little change of pace- an interlude into Victor's life. Edited!**

_On a chilly morning on October 16th, 1870, Nell Van Dort went into labor. This was not her first pregnancy, naturally there had been births before this one, early on in her marriage. The babies lived a few months, would catch a chill and pass away. That's how things were in those days. Mothers were accustomed to weeping over diminutive graves._

_So naturally, Nell was rather nervous about birth and she was not going to get her hopes up. Just another miniature corpse to bury._

_Her husband William however was rather optimistic. He was optimistic each time. For every baby that died, one would live and maybe it would be The Van Dort's turn to have the living child._

_So William sat in the parlor, waiting patiently for his wife. Every so often, he'd hear her moan or scream, her cheery peasant accent laced with frustration and pain._

"_Give me the Laudanum! Give me the bloody laudanum now!"_

_William chuckled softly, even though she was in pain, he found the roughness of her demands to be humorous. _

_He met her for the first time in the market. She was a plump girl from the countryside and he was a fish merchant's son. He sat at the family stall, hawking all sorts of salted, pickled and fresh fish, caught from rivers and sent from the coast. She had bustled up to stall and demanded the finest herring money could buy and it was love at first sight for him. She was short and plump and wore a straw gypsy bonnet embellished with fake blue flowers, perched at a jaunty angle. _

_For Nell herself, she too had fallen for the tall awkward fish merchant. She found him a little more charming and intelligent than the other boys who gave her daisies ripped out of the ground with the roots still attached. No this boy gave her a herring._

_It was that herring started their courtship. Six months later William asked her to marry him. Her reply was less than enthusiastic._

"_Marry you! You're a fish merchant! You always stink of fish! I'll end up stinking of fish! I deserve better than a fish merchant's life!" she exclaimed._

"_Well fish smells better than the manure on your father's farm. And who knows? That fish selling might make me wealthy one day," he reasoned._

_And because she loved him, she reluctantly agreed._

_Now, five years later, William sat in the parlor, listening to his laboring wife scream for laudanum._

_Finally, around 9 PM, Nell's screams stopped and were replaced with a shrill squall. The baby had been born alive, with a healthy set of lungs._

_William bounded up the stairs, ready to burst into his wife's room. But before he could burst through the door, the midwife opened it, stuck her head out and said: _

"_Mr. Van Dort, come see your baby son,"_

_A son! By god, William thought. I've been blessed with a son! _

_Nell was holding the baby, her eyes glazed in exhaustion, barely even looking at the baby. She was not going to get attached. When she got attached, the baby died._

_"I would like to hold my son," William said._

_The baby was placed in his arms, he felt awkward suddenly, babies were so fragile. This boy was small, almost too small, with large eyes that focused on the man holding him. He had, even at a few minutes old, a full head of dark hair. _

"_Hello old bean, or should I say 'young bean'?" William chuckled._

" _I have a feeling that things are going to work out swimmingly for you,"_

_And things did work out quite swimmingly for the baby. He was christened Victor, and while there was some worry about his size and how inattentive he was towards his parents, he thrived well enough._

_Nell had trouble getting close to her son, constantly fearing he would become ill, while William spent plenty of time with the boy. They could not afford a nanny, so they raised him on their own._

_The boy was constantly afraid. He feared the dark, he feared the thunder and lightening. He was afraid of fire, and afraid of water (it was so hard to get him to bathe) and perhaps most ironically, he was afraid of dead fish. The frightened boy constantly wet his combinations, drawing complaint from his mother. William did not seem to mind. He himself had been a frightened boy. Not to the same extent Victor took it, but a frightened boy all the same._

"_Why are you so afraid all the time?" William asked his only child when Victor was five._

"_I'm not entirely sure," The child stuttered._

"_The world just seems rather frightening,"_

"_Would you be less afraid if you had a companion?" William asked._

"_I don't know," the child said softly._

"_Maybe I would,"_

_From this conversation, William thought of something wonderful to do for his son._

_He had heard that his cousin's dog had given birth, some months ago. So, on a Sunday he took Victor across town to see them._

"_Pick out one of the puppies," William urged._

"_It's alright, Cousin Wendell said you could,"_

_The boy stared at the wriggling four-legged creature with some reluctance. He liked dogs, except when they barked or growled. But these, little puppies looked relatively harmless. One in particular seemed to like Victor, and had stumbled close to the boy and sniffed him enthusiastically. Victor hesitantly picked up the puppy and looked it in the eyes._

"_I think I would like this one," Victor said, softly._

"_And I think I shall name him Scraps,"_

_When they brought little Scraps home, Nell went ballistic._

"_I cant believe you brought home a filthy disgusting animal! He'll ruin the carpets! He'll stink up the drapes!" she complained, pointing at it with revulsion._

"_Victor needs a friend. This dog will give him companionship for many years!" William reasoned._

_And because she loved her husband and son, she reluctantly agreed._

_ Over the years Victor grew. He grew as tall as a beanpole and just as skinny, his dark hair was never tidy. His awkward appearance drew criticism from his mother, who was disappointed in the way her son took after his father. What added to her disappointment was the fact that Victor stayed in his room and took up strange hobbies for a young man. While most boys his age were playing cricket and flirting with girls, Victor spent his time studying insects, pressing flowers and reading poetry. He and Scraps, (who was getting on in years) would go out in the morning, collect varying plants and insects, then study them intently. When Victor gathered all the information he could, he would set the insect free or dry the plant he studied between the pages of a leather-bound journal. _

_While Victor was collecting a wealth of knowledge, his father was collecting a more material sort of wealth. Van Dort's Fish had industrialized, now selling canned fish made in a small factory (very small but it got the job done). The concept of canned fish was considered a miracle to housewives all over town, who found the could have any sort of fish they wanted, anytime they wanted if the fish was canned. The hassle of going to the market early, to get the best selection was eliminated, the hassle of gutting, scaling and de-boning the fish was eliminated as well. Word spread across the country about Van Dort's Miraculous fish and soon people all over the country were demanding the company's products! Even the country's army and navy demanded that the convenient fish be a part of the rations for their men! William was raking in the money, and soon could afford to move his family into a large opulent mansion in the best part of town, living right across the street from the Everglot family, a clan with titles and wealth._

_ Shortly after they moved into the mansion, Victor, now aged 15, had his first experience with grief. Scraps, his beloved companion for many long years had passed away in his sleep. William himself helped the boy bury his dog in the woods, which lay across the bridge heading towards the church. Victor shed a few tears, and lamented the loss of his friend. His father offered to buy him a new dog, but the youth refused. There would never be another dog like Scraps, and he was certain he would never see his beloved pet again._

_Four years had passed since Victor experienced the first major change of his life. Moving into a new home and losing a friend in the span of three months had brought back his childhood anxiety and fear, which he now carried into manhood. He was nineteen, and still living his parents. _

_William and Nell enjoyed their wealth but felt something was missing. They had the money, but they did not have the title they craved. With noble connections they could make themselves a part of the current social scene currently dominating the country. The wealthy were having exclusive parties and social get-togethers, but were snubbing the nouveau riche, those like the Van Dorts, who had made their fortune, rather than inherit it._

_It seemed however, that someone had heard the prayers of Nell and William and handed them a brilliant opportunity. The Everglots were seeking to marry off their only child, a demure young woman named Victoria. _

_Upon hearing this, Nell sent a message to Lady Everglot, saying this:_

_To the Lady Everglot,_

_I have heard of your family's plight and that I understood your grievous situation entirely. Why, I myself have been trying to marry off my only son, Victor, but seem to be having trouble finding someone socially acceptable. I have seen your fine daughter on rare occasion and find her to be a demure young woman. If only I could find a girl like her to be a proper bride to be dear son, would I be happy._

_Yours, Mrs. William Van Dort_

_The trap set, Lady Everglot brought this news to her husband, who in turn sent word to William saying that he needed a husband for his daughter, and didn't Vincent, ("Victor" his wife corrected, coldly) urm…Victor seem like a fine candidate? In fact, no other man but Victor would do, for the boy looked to be highly respectable. _

_To be honest, Lord Everglot had never really paid attention to the boy at all, but was using flattery to lure in The Van Dorts. He knew they had money, and didn't care what kind of boy Victor was, the fact that the family was wealthy was enough for him._

_So it was, in the late winter of 1889, shortly before the month of March, Victor Van Dort was forcibly betrothed to Victoria Everglot, thus bringing the second major change in the shy young man's life._


	11. Interlude to Victoria

**Another sporadic update! This time, a flashback into Victoria's life. When will I return to the Emily Action? When my muse says so. **

**Warning- Graphic description of childbirth, if you're squeamish or a prude, that's too bad. There will be a few things in this chapter that connect to different points in the movie, see what they are!**

* * *

_It was no surprise to anyone that Maudeline and Finis Everglot only had one child. In fact, they disliked each other so intensely that it was a wonder that their marriage had even been consummated. _

_It was 1869, when Finis Everglot was forcibly married to his second cousin, Maudeline Spencer. Finis was a short and rather stout young man who was going prematurely bald, and his bride fared no better in the looks department. Maudeline was a rather tall and dour looking girl, with a prominent jaw and sharp nose. If that weren't bad enough, she insisted on styling her long dark hair into a ridiculous pouf reminiscent of Marie Antoinette, even though such coiffure had been out of fashion for nearly a century. _

_Now, such physical ugliness in a couple could often be overlooked if they were kind-hearted or interesting. But the truth was, that Maudeline and Finis were boring, bitter people and while one would say that they were perfectly matched in this, there hadn't been such an ill-matched couple in the country for nearly fifty years. _

_So on a rainy, March day, the depressing pair were joined in holy matrimony. When asked to kiss the bride, Finis had to stand on a ladder, supported by his groomsmen, who could barely contain their laughter._

_That night, after a wedding feast that put one in mind of a funeral, Maudeline and Finis retired to their marriage bed. Finis took one look at his pale, sour bride in her puritan nightgown and voluminous nightcap covering her immense coiffure, and took a shot (or seven) of rather strong whiskey. _

_Having quaffed enough of the burning liquor to kill a small pony, Finis climbed into the bed and consummated his nuptials, the details of which I'll leave to your twisted imagination, dear reader._

_The night was so unpleasant for both of them, they vowed to never ever touch each other again, and this would have boded ill for their marriage if Maudeline had not been lucky enough to conceive._

_In the history of time, no pregnancy had ever been more unpleasant. Maudeline suffered morning sickness so vile, even sweet smells, such as roses, sent her into bouts of vomiting. The urge to void her bladder was so frequent and so intense, that she ceased leaving the house or having company to avoid the social humiliation it caused. When she was not attached to a chamber pot, she found herself sobbing hysterically at the slightest word. Finis for his part kept himself sequestered in his study, far from his hormonal wife._

_ Maudeline went into labor in winter of 1870, during a blizzard. The physician could not get to the mansion because of the storm, and the poor woman was left with naught but her maidservant Hildegard, a stooped old woman who'd served her since her childhood. Now in any other circumstances, this would not have been too harrowing an experience. But Maudeline's labor was harder than most, for the infant was breech and Maudeline had narrow hips, a fact disguised by the fashionably wide skirts of the time. _

_Finis' study could not keep out the sound of his wife's shrill penetrating screams of pain. Try as he might, he could not ignore them. His wife, when not suffering the trials of impending motherhood, was usually calm and reserved, restrained, if you will. To hear her scream like this, was profoundly disturbing._

_Maudeline had been in labor since that morning, it was well nearing midnight and there was no sign of her baby. Panicked, afraid, losing her usual cool reserve, she asked Hildegarde what there was to be done._

"_Ooh My Lady," Hildegarde cooed, sadly._

"_The babe is breech, coming out feet first. There is only one thing I can do…"_

"_THEN DO IT!" Maudeline wailed, without realizing what "It" entailed._

_Hildegarde, having birthed babies before, rolled up the black sleeve of her uniform and inserted her long skinny arm into the bloody birth canal, much to Maudeline's shock._

"_What are you doing?" The young woman exclaimed in shock at the feeling of her maidservant's arm searching about inside of her, reaching into her womb, turning the baby. _

"_It's the only way to save you and the baby," Hildegarde grunted, feeling the baby turn in the right direction, feeling the warm gush of blood slide over her arm. _

"_It's almost over…"_

_ Shortly after midnight, the butler, Emil, came to the door of Finis' study._

"_You have been asked to Lady Everglot's Boudoir, Sir" he said crisply._

_Finis grunted, and followed his butler down the dark, cold corridor to his wife's bedroom, admiring the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls, vaguely wondering what the next heir to The Everglot Estate would be like._

_Finis entered the boudoir, his nose curling at the musky scent of afterbirth, the coppery tang of blood and sweat. Who knew birth smelled so? He heard a little cry, faint as a kitten's. In Hildegard's arms was a tiny bundle. Ah, that must be his son…_

"_It's a little girl," Hildegarde cooed, placing the child in Finis' arms._

_He looked down at the little disappointment, at her wide eyes and dainty little mouth. He felt the corner of his mouth curve upwards. _

"_She looks…" he began slowly._

"_Like an otter. An otter in disgrace."_

_He handed her to Hildegard, who cooed over the little girl before handing her off to the scullery maid, Bess, (who was acting as wet nurse, until a proper one could be hired) and walked over to his wife's bed. _

_ There Maudeline lay, dressed in a clean nightgown, her dark hair free from it's usual coiffure. Her pinched face was pale and still shiny with sweat. She looked slightly traumatized._

_Dearest wife…" he began stiffly._

"_Never again," she hissed, cutting him off._

"_I will never let you touch me again. I will never go through that torture again,"_

_And she never did have to again, for the couple decided that they would not share marital relations again, and one child, regardless of gender was certainly enough._

_The little heiress was baptized Victoria Everglot less than a week later. Performing the ceremony was a one Pastor Galswells, a long nosed, thin holy man, who happened to be a distant cousin of her mother's. The child screamed during the ceremony, much to the mortification of her parents._

_ Victoria, despite her parents' ugliness, grew to become a beautiful child, with silky brown hair; a heart-shaped face, large eyes and a dainty bow of a mouth. Also, despite her parent's bitterness and repressive nature, she was a gentle, sweet girl with a fondness for dreaming. _

_The child's parents were not very active in Victoria's upbringing, only seeing her once or twice in a day. It was not that they did not love her, for they did, at least in their own dysfunctional and emotionally distant way. They loved her as one would a favorite hunting hound, or a prize-winning horse, she was a pawn in their battle for wealth, power and influence. That was the way the nobility viewed their children in those days, and their treatment of her was considered normal._

_But little Victoria Everglot did not lack for affection. After her miraculous birth, Hildegarde took the duties of nursemaid once more, caring for Victoria as if they were flesh and blood. She made sure that not only did Victoria learn about discipline and etiquette, but also kindness and love._

_ Like most noble children, Victoria did not go to public school, but instead had a tutor give her lessons at home. Her tutor was named Elijah Brandon, and he was a tall, pale and strangely handsome man, who had a gentle manner. He was like no one in Victoria's life, for he was so well learned, and very open-minded. From the moment she saw him, the sensitive six-year-old knew she loved him, because reminded her of the princes in the fairy-tales Hildegarde told her, with his golden hair, sapphire eyes and the gallant way he kissed her hand at the beginning of each lesson._

_ "Good morning Lady Everglot, I trust you are well this day," he would say smoothly, eliciting a delighted giggle from the girl's lips._

_ One day, some years after he first started tutoring young Miss Everglot, Elijah Brandon led a twelve-year-old Victoria to the piano. The piano, was tuned once a week by a piano tuner that Lord Everglot hired at great expense, though the piano was never played and only kept for purposes of display. It had belonged to a maiden aunt of Finis', a stout woman who died of tuberculosis sometime in the 1840s, and had been buried in her favorite maroon dress and bonnet. The piano had not been played in forty years._

_But on that morning, when Mr. Brandon sat Victoria beside him and began to play a song for her, it sounded exquisite, as if it had only been played the day before. A new world had opened up for the girl, as he played a beautiful, mournful tune for her, which years later, on a fateful winter's day, Victoria would hear once more, opening her heart and brightening her world as it was doing now. _

_ "Oh Hildegarde," she would sigh that night as she got in bed._

"_I think Professor Brandon may be my one true love, the one I'm destined to marry, the one I shall spend the rest of my days with…"_

_Hildegarde said nothing, but only smiled weakly. She knew such a match would never occur. The aristocracy never married for love, and certainly never married below themselves in social rank. Marriage was for wealth, connections, and the making of heirs. Love was not a part of the equation. But no one told Victoria this grim truth, and the girl was allowed to dream, imagining that her wedding day would be a beautiful, romantic event and that the bridegroom would be her one true love._

_ Outside of Victoria's rose-tinted imaginings, the Everglot world was falling apart. Like many old aristocratic families, the Everglots had an abundance of land and titles, but a dwindling fortune. Fearing the dreaded curse of poverty, Lord and Lady Everglot decided to make some sacrifices. The first to go was Victoria's tutor. _

_ After Elijah Brandon left, Victoria was inconsolable. The heartbroken twelve-year-old locked herself in her room, and stayed there for weeks, not leaving. Her parents did not complain, for Maudeline believed she was suffering from "female vapors" and Finis was just glad not to have to look at her face, which he still often referred to as being otter-like. Only Hildegarde, her nurse and confidante knew why the girl was so depressed._

_ In her third week of exile, Victoria decided to venture out of her room, having smelled wondrous baking smells wafting up the stairs from the kitchen. Forgetting for a moment why she had exiled herself, she wandered out the door, down the hall and down the stairs, clad in a mauve silk robe and slippers. _

_ Her quest for sugary treats was abandoned however, when she spotted the piano. It looked lonely, not having been touched by anyone in the past three weeks, except for the occasional dusting. Victoria stopped and stared at it, filled with longing for the music it played, and the tutor who taught her to play it. How she missed both of them!_

_ Without giving it another thought, she fairly flew over to the instrument, and threw herself upon its bench with the fervor of a woman embracing a long-lost lover. Gently, she lifted the lid to reveal the ivory keys. Her hands ran over them tenderly, her mind awash in memories of her precious music lessons._

_ Slowly, her fingers began to press down on the keys, playing a few soft notes here and there. The random notes progressed to scales, and then she ceased playing scales, and began to play the piece that Elijah had played for her, which she had memorized, and had learned to play by ear._

_ Victoria was so lost in the music she was playing, the rapture she felt, that she failed to see her mother enter the room, having just returned from paying a call. Maudeline's face blanched at the sight of her daughter, clad in her nightclothes, playing the piano with an expression of utter ecstasy writ upon her young face. The scandal! Maudeline Everglot steadfastly believed that music of any kind was too passionate for a young lady, and exposure to it could cause impure thoughts and hysteria. She had always refused to allow Victoria music lessons of any sort, so it came as quite a shock to find her daughter in this situation. How did she even know how to play that wretched piano?_

_ "VICTORIA!" She exclaimed, causing the girl to jump up in fright and surprise. _

_ Upon hearing her mother's shocked voice, Victoria's hands flew off the piano, and she rose off the bench so quickly it toppled over. She turned to face her mother, shame-faced and incredibly nervous. _

_ "What on Earth are you doing?" Maudeline exclaimed, grabbing her daughter's wrist._

"_Who taught you? Who taught you to play that sinful music?"_

_ She spat out that last word, as if she had said something incredible foul, a swear word perhaps, but for Maudeline Everglot, music was obscene, and all words pertaining to it might as well have been swears._

_ "Mr. Brandon did," Victoria bleated, in a trembling voice. _

"_Well, he didn't mean to, I just learned it by accident…"_

"_Your father was right to dismiss that blackguard! What kind of man exposes impressionable young women to…music!" Maudeline raved. _

"_Don't you know, Victoria? Don't you listen to your mother? Music is too passionate for a young woman, especially a developing one! It invites wicked thoughts, and brings on bouts of hysteria! Only married women, should listen to or play music, and only then with the permission and supervision of their husbands…"_

_ Maudeline continued to rant and rave about the negative effect music would have upon Victoria's delicate pysche, and about how it would effect her growth and development. She told Victoria that excessive exposure to the piano, and to music would make her unfit for marriage, that no man, would ever want a woman who enjoyed music more than she enjoyed her household duties._

_ The speech had a lasting effect on Victoria. For years, she avoided the piano like a plague, and did not allow herself the pleasure of attending dances or balls for fear of being exposed to the sin of music, and ruining her marriage prospects._

_ But despite this, as the years progressed, Victoria grew into a young lady of rare prettiness. She was rather skilled in the arts of sewing, embroidery and quilting and spent many hours a day creating all kinds of beautiful things. Whenever she finished a quilt or a lacy pillow sham or some other lovely little thing, she would place them in a hope chest, where they waited for the day she would be wed, and they would have a place in a household of her very own. While Victoria, sewed, knit, quilted and stitched, her parents despaired at their dwindling fortune, and at their daughter they feared would become a spinster._

_ When Victoria was fifteen, a new family moved into the vacant mansion across the street. Nouveau Riche, her parents sniffed with disdain. But Victoria could see nothing wrong with this little family, whom she glimpsed through the window. A tall balding man, in a top hat, a short round woman, and a tall dark-haired boy about her age, carrying an ancient dog tenderly in her arms. But being incredibly shy, she made no move to befriend any of them, not even the boy her age, despite the fact that their destinies were entwined (though she was not aware of this little fact)._

_ Four more years passed, and one day, Victoria's mother received a letter from Mrs. Van Dort, the rather coarse lady who lived across the street. It read:_

_To the Lady Everglot,_

_I have heard of your family's plight and that I understood your grievous situation entirely. Why, I myself have been trying to marry off my only son, Victor, but seem to be having trouble finding someone socially acceptable. I have seen your fine daughter on rare occasion and find her to be a demure young woman. If only I could find a girl like her to be a proper bride to be dear son, would I be happy._

_Yours, Mrs. William Van Dort_

_Ever the cunning woman, a plan hatched in Maudeline Everglot's mind. They were desperate for money, and these plebeian Van Dort's had plenty of that. The Van Dort's were desperate for social status, and the Everglot's had a great deal of that. She was aware that both she and Mrs. Van Dort were also desperate to marry off their children. While she despised the idea of giving away her daughter to the son of a fish merchant, she was aware that Victoria had no other prospects on her horizon, and went to her husband with the note._

_ Finis was uncharacteristically enthusiastic to the idea. Downright chuffed. While he knew absolutely nothing about Victor, whether or not he was decent and kind, he was just glad that he wouldn't have to put up wit ha spinster daughter for the rest of his days. The Everglots need two things, money and heirs, and by God, the Van Dorts had practically laid their salvation on the doorstep._

_ When they told Victoria of her impending engagement, she was horrified. How could they sell he to a complete stranger? Victoria still held out on the notion of marriage for love, and not once, during all her years did a single person set her straight on the matter._

_ But little did she, or anyone else realize that the Van Dort boy would turn out to be her true love, and despite the marriage having initially been arranged for the purposes of convenience, that it would turn out to be a love match after all._


End file.
